It did not start as rainbows, butterflies and Spanish lullabies. In fact when we first met, the day my nerves were so racked I could feel my heart rupture my rib cage for reasons, I thought you hated me.
I was wrong.
You possess the talent so rare, so precious, so pristine, it makes me want to be you: your glance hushed the ocean in me, your words resonated the peace of the morning prayer, your mind made me want to sharpen mine, your humour could melt dark clouds.
You made me laugh. You made me question myself. You made me fall for someone I never wanted to.
We will never be together, life has made sure of that. Miraculously, this doesn’t make me wistful. Rather, I treasure every adorable moment I spent with you. On grey monday mornings when it feels like magic is unreal, I think of us on that empty bus the last time I saw you. I remember your voice, and my laughter, as we passed my favourite part of downtown lit with the brightness of the near eclipsed sun. I can picture the way the city lights shone in your eyes, as you laughed too. I still laugh at our conversation replaying in my head.
You were a surprise; I still cannot believe you, of all people, liked me. And though we may never speak again, I will always be grateful to you for teaching me how I should be loved.